The Enlightenment
by ilovetvalot
Summary: He'd always been a champion for the Underdog. Morgan/Rossi/Garcia TWOSHOT
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: BIG ANNOUNCEMENT - THE FINAL VOTING BALLOT IS AVAILABLE FOR THE SECOND ANNUAL PROFILER'S CHOICE CM AWARDS on "CHIT CHAT ON AUTHOR'S CORNER" FORUM. Please take this opportunity to recognize some wonderful author's and their stunning pieces of fic. Voting ends 11/30/2011. Two Amazon gift cards will be given to two RANDOM voters that take the time to vote in ten or more categories. Congratulations to all of this year's nominees. Now, let's all read some CM fic!**_

_**Also, you have until 10/31/11 (THREE DAYS LEFT)to sign up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange at Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. This is our LAST challenge of the year and we'd love to see everyone participate with us to create our fellow author's some wonderful stories to read this holiday season!**_

_**And don't forget that we've got quite the collection of fellow authors and readers interfacing over at Facebook. Simply friend "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction" and/or "Tonnie Fanfiction" to join in the fun. Periodic announcements regarding our awards and ongoing work are announced there.**_

_**Thanks to everyone that continues to read, review, favorite and alert our work! You guys are incredible and we love hearing from each one of you!**_

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**Chapter One**

It was difficult when you saw a friend trotting down a path you'd already wandered down...a road that led to nowhere. No happiness. No fulfillment. Nothing.

It was harder still when you knew that friend was as pig-headed as you were at that age. His mother used to call it the "Ten Feet Tall and Bulletproof Syndrome". His first wife had named it "Foolish Man's Disease". His second wife had labeled it "The Asshole Complex". And his third wife had referred to it as a really good reason to take him to the cleaners.

Sadly, each of them had been right. Not that he'd ever admit it aloud. He had his pride, after all.

Still, though, that didn't mean he liked to watch an otherwise decent guy fall down the same rabbit hole that he had travelled many times before. Because, much like the mafia...once you were in, you were never out.

Watching as Derek Morgan grinned wickedly at Penelope Garcia, Rossi couldn't help but notice how the enthusiastic technical analyst's face lit up. It did that any time Morgan was anywhere in her airspace. Shaking his head slightly as he watched her glittered lashes lower flirtatiously to peer up at the other man, Dave sighed as Morgan's eyes gleamed.

The son of a bitch adored the attention that Garcia lavished on him. He ate it up with a spoon. But Dave knew, as sure as he knew that it was scotch in his glass, that at the end of the night, Derek wouldn't be going home with the right person.

And just like clockwork, Dave watched grimly as a willowy mocha skinned woman sidled up to the couple, looking between the two and quickly assessing the relationship before leveling a wicked smile on the guy he privately thought of as a blockhead.

Silently counting in his head as he serendipitously kept an eye on the developing situation, he observed Penelope holding court with the couple for a few moments before she forced herself to smile, touch Morgan's arm and gesture at the door. Too many times, he'd seen this exact series of events unfold.

Lifting his hand to wave a farewell at Penelope when she nodded at him, Dave tried to rein in his need to scrutinize her face. Profiling a colleague was bad enough, but doing it to a friend was almost unforgiveable.

Although, really, he didn't need those much vaunted skills to see the pain radiating from her open gaze in that unguarded moment. She was good, he'd give her that, he thought as he watched the door swing closed behind her as she departed, the frothy full skirt of her scarlet dress trailing behind her. The amazingly talented woman hid her sorrow behind bright clothes and an enthusiastic-seeming zest for life. She wore her mask convincingly.

But that didn't mean it wasn't an act.

He knew it was a charade. And, more, he suspected she knew he knew.

But, he kept her secrets.

That's what friends did for one another, wasn't it? Who the hell was he to intrude on private agony?

Just keep your mouth shut, Rossi, the little voice in his head ordered as he watched Derek take the cocktail napkin the model-like woman had scribbled her number on and amble toward him. Penelope Garcia is more frightening than any ex-wife you've ever had and a hell of a lot more lethal. THAT woman is entirely capable of orchestrating and implementing your death with a minimum of effort. Stay out of it!

But the wicked grin playing against Derek Morgan's arrogant lips was his downfall. Unless or until somebody found a way to wipe the smugness off his face, Garcia would remain perpetually unhappy despite what it appeared, and Derek was bound for a life of loneliness.

Setting the record straight for the good looking black man wasn't so much a choice as it was a necessity.

And David Rossi took his duties very seriously.

"Did you see that, man?" Morgan grinned as he reached Dave's table in the corner. "That honey was so sweet she gave a brother a toothache, ya know?" he chuckled, glancing over his shoulder and raising his glass at the woman still standing against the bar.

"Maybe you ought to see a dentist then," Rossi muttered underneath his breath, his lips pressing together in disgust as he noticed the woman purposefully turn and lean against the counter, offering both men an amazing few of her...assets.

Had the woman's blouse lost even more buttons?

"Ahhhh, now don't hate the playa, Rossi," Morgan chuckled as he turned back to the older man, dropping the cocktail napkin to the table in front of Dave. "I know it's been awhile, but I'm sure back in the day you caught a few of these," he challenged as he winked, plopping down into the nearby chair.

Smiling grimly, Dave purposefully reached for his half full glass of scotch, lifting it to his lips as he tossed the napkins beneath it to Morgan. "Not too long, kid," Dave smirked, rolling his eyes.

Eyes widening at the numbers Dave had collected, Morgan shook his head. "So, Agent Rossi is still in the game," he drawled, fingering one of the damp napkins, tracing the fading print. "Man, you've smeared half the freakin' numbers," he frowned, shooting Rossi an irritated glance.

Dave rolled his eyes again as he took a healthy sip of his liquor. "That's because I've got no intention of using any of them, moron."

"Huh?" Derek grunted, recognizing a few of the names. "These are some Grade A ladies that you've got here, Rossi."

"Maybe in appearance," Dave snorted, leaning one elbow against the scarred table. "But, trust me, Derek...no woman that's passing you a number on a napkin is exactly somebody you want to take home to mama. Trust me on that. I tried it three times."

"Never hurts to sample Ms. Wrong while you're waiting on Ms. Right though," Derek replied as he winked, leaning back in his chair.

Cocking his head, Dave resisted the urge to deliver a right hook to Derek Morgan's handsome jaw. "Well," Dave replied with deliberate slowness, "that depends."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: BIG ANNOUNCEMENT - THE FINAL VOTING BALLOT IS AVAILABLE FOR THE SECOND ANNUAL PROFILER'S CHOICE CM AWARDS on "CHIT CHAT ON AUTHOR'S CORNER" FORUM. Please take this opportunity to recognize some wonderful author's and their stunning pieces of fic. Voting ends 11/30/2011. Two Amazon gift cards will be given to two RANDOM voters that take the time to vote in ten or more categories. Congratulations to all of this year's nominees. Now, let's all read some CM fic!**_

_**Also, you have until 10/31/11 (TWO DAYS LEFT)to sign up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange at Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. This is our LAST challenge of the year and we'd love to see everyone participate with us to create our fellow author's some wonderful stories to read this holiday season!**_

_**And don't forget that we've got quite the collection of fellow authors and readers interfacing over at Facebook. Simply friend "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction" and/or "Tonnie Fanfiction" to join in the fun. Periodic announcements regarding our awards and ongoing work are announced there.**_

_**Thanks to everyone that continues to read, review, favorite and alert our work! You guys are incredible and we love hearing from each one of you!**_

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**Chapter Two**

"Depends?" Morgan echoed, propping both hands on the table as he stared into Rossi's serious eyes. "On what, Yoda?" he teased.

"Cute," Dave muttered, taking another sip of his drink before dropping the glass back to the table with a dull thunk. "But I'll answer your question, Smartass. It depends on whether you know you've got Ms. Right hanging off the hook already. In case you missed it, Morgan, the Grade A lady in your life just fucking left. Alone. Again."

Confusion flashing in his dark eyes, Morgan frowned as he attempted to comprehend the puzzle before him. "Huh? You mean Garcia?"

"Do I mean Garcia?" Dave echoed in disgust, rolling his eyes. "Of course I mean Garcia, you prick. How long are you gonna flaunt other women in her face before you finally find a fucking clue?"

"Rossi," Derek replied, automatically shaking his head, "It ain't like that. She's my baby girl. My sweetness. I mean, I love her..."

"Are you even hearing the words coming out of your mouth, Asshole?" Dave asked sharply, raising an eyebrow.

Feeling the infamous Rossi stare leveled on him...that one that could bore holes in a guy's brain or soul, depending on where the other man aimed at, Morgan swallowed painfully. All the oxygen felt like it had been sucked from the room and now, he stood in the airless void. Could Dave mean...was it possible that...oh, holy shit! "Rossi, what do you know?" Morgan questioned slowly, his voice strangely thick and hoarse.

"Beyond the fact that you're threatening to dethrone Reid as the King of Clueless?" Dave asked sarcastically.

"Rossi," Derek warned, stiffening as he felt the elder man's cold gaze rake over him.

"Can you really not see that you're killing Penelope by inches, Derek?" Dave asked softly, one eye narrowing as he spoke, his imitation of his grandmother's evil eye almost perfect. "Is it possible that you're really that oblivious?"

"What?" Derek yelped. "No! What you're saying..."

"...is completely accurate," Dave stated flatly. "But then, you already knew that. Didn't you?" Pressing his lips together as the younger man stared back at him, his mouth slightly ajar as he struggled for words, Dave suggested drily, "You might wanna close your mouth, Morgan, before it becomes a flytrap."

Hands fisting against the scarred wooden table, Derek asked urgently, "Did she say something to you, Rossi?"

Merely gazing back at the nearly vibrating man, Dave asked, "What do you think?"

"I think this whole Confucius say act you've got kicking is gettin' on my nerves," Derek retorted angrily. "I'm not your fucking Grasshopper. If you've got something to say, just say it."

"You want honesty? Fine," Dave smiled, leaning forward to tap his finger against the table as he continued, "You're killing that woman by fucking degrees, Derek. No, screw killing...a kill is clean and merciful. No, you're fucking murdering her spirit, and it's really beginning to piss me off."

"Really?" Morgan sneered, hackles rising as he attempted to compensate for the shame he was beginning to feel inside. "Not that I agree, but even if you are right, what the hell business is it of yours?"

"Who do you think created the fucking mold that you're filling, Derek?" Dave barked, his words terse and blunt. "You think I haven't made the same mistakes you are? How the hell do you think I recognize what's happening? I can see the writing on the wall because I was you twenty years ago, you insignificant little shit. Or do you think Erin Strauss and I always hated each other's guts?"

Blinking rapidly as that information registered, Morgan's own eyebrows raised.

Seeing the recognition in his eyes, Dave nodded. "Yeah, Derek. Once upon a time, I had a partner in crime, too. I had the yen to my yang. And I fucked it all up being an insensitive son of a bitch. What did you call it again? Oh yeah, the playa. Ask me how well it works out in the end," Dave demanded.

"Rossi...," Morgan began uncertainly, wincing as he refused to meet the older man's eyes.

"She'll end up hating you, Derek," Dave said with the confidence only experience could bring. "All that love and adoration will eventually harden into something you don't want to know about. Believe me," he assured the profiler in front of him. "Mark my words, you keep fucking around with that woman's emotions...keep living in the land of delusion where you think she'll always be there waiting for you to grow up...and you'll look up one day and realize that you are completely alone."

"So what do I do?" Derek asked weakly, his heart pounding in his chest while his gut clenched. David Rossi's stark words of warning rang true. And for the first time in his life, he thought he knew what real fear tasted like. A world without Penelope's smiling face staring back at him...that wasn't somewhere he ever wanted to exist.

"Man the fuck up," Dave growled, tapping his index finger against the table with each word. "If you want her, be with her. If you don't, then make it clear to her. I don't give a flying hell what your choice is, Morgan. But stop expecting that woman to exist in a state of eternal limbo. She deserves a hell of a lot better than that and you damn well know it."

Nodding, Derek dropped the cocktail napkin he'd collected on the table with nerveless fingers. "I gotta go, Rossi," Derek mumbled, turning and making his way toward the door with long strides.

Smiling faintly as he watched his now enlightened colleague jog across the street toward the parking lot through the window, Dave reached for the discarded cloth number. Taking a devious delight in ripping it to shreds as the svelte woman stared at him, he grinned as she glared at him.

Picking up his scotch, Dave smiled into the class.

"Penelope Garcia: 1, Vapid Bitches everywhere: Nada," he toasted to himself.

And as the alcohol slid down his throat, his conscience felt just a little bit lighter.

_**Finis**_


End file.
